


Love in the key of c# minor

by utlaginn



Series: Amorevole [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Love, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, POV Victor Nikiforov, Sleepy Sex, i'm so glad there's a tag for that, reassurance, vauge reference to nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 13:17:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8846551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/utlaginn/pseuds/utlaginn
Summary: Victor realizes that sometimes Yuuri’s vulnerability is just the right thing to aim for, in moments like this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place at some unspecified time between the Rostelecom Cup and Episode 10. They've been intimate for probably a couple weeks at this point.
> 
> Image Music: Scriabin, Etude for piano in C# minor, Op. 2 no. 1: [Played by Horowitz in Moscow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=327D03P5Xxc).

He wakes to sleep-warm hands traveling over his skin, to lips pliant, pressed to his forehead, the hollow of his throat.

Gray. All indistinct. Not even the sound of the inn waking up around them,  and the light seeping in through the cracks around Victor's window is barely turning gray. Barely qualifies as a color, and he squints against it before lips are pressed to his and he’s kissing Yuuri back. It’s automatic, and he drifts a little as he does it, settled back into sleepiness by the now-familiar touch, the security of it. Warmed by it, by the indistinct sigh that Yuuri gives through his nose when Victor responds. It swells a little, Yuuri’s answering hum, when Victor shifts and places his hand against Yuuri’s neck, feeling the gust of his heartbeat there.

He thinks they’re both about to drift back off when Yuuri says something.

And it’s clear, if quiet.

“Victor… I need you.”

“I’m right here.” He almost laughs the words—Yuuri’s seem so out of place.

“No, I need- Mm. Want you.”

And Victor blinks himself awake. He’s almost too tired to understand that the request trips rather than glides down the scale. But still he asks, as if his mouth knows better than his mind, “Right now?”

Yuuri nods, a desperate little motion against his chest. Sleep-mussed hair tickles at Victor in just the right way to remind him that this beautiful boy is actually here—in his bed, wanting him, asking him for the easiest thing in the world to give.

So Victor goes a little boneless as Yuuri clambers over him. Can he really be blamed? He’s the first man that’s experienced this wanting, desperate thing that is Katsuki Yuuri, and if he takes advantage of it in all its new enthusiasm, if he relishes the how blissed out and frenetic Yuuri gets with the novelty of it, in the rare moments of intimacy they’re allowed between the relentless skating practice, he’s not going to feel guilty about it.

He does ask, “What’s gotten into you?” as he runs his hands over Yuuri’s back. Slides them over the swell of his ass and starts to move his fingers toward his center—but Yuuri is already reaching there, digits slick and insistent.

“Let me do it,” he mutters.

And granted, that’s a tad more than hot, but it’s also a little discordant. He usually lets Victor touch him as much as he wants, worship every centimeter of his body exactly as he pleases.

There’s barely any sound, a few scant, wet gasps, the plastic shift of a wrapper. Victor’s still trying to work out exactly why he’s allowing himself to lay there, hands placed gently over the long, hard muscles of Yuuri’s thighs, when the other sinks himself down over Victor after what cannot have been enough time to adjust. _He’s_ the one that shatters, a shard of a moan and half of Yuuri’s name splintering away from him.

He finishes the broken sounds with care, at least. “You okay?”

Yuuri nods again, and moves—a hard, slow, grinding pace. Fingers dig into Yuuri’s skin, before Victor grasps that he's gripping so hard just so he can find himself in the maze of half consciousness. Navigate the wave of sensation that renders the light in the room brighter. He’s still drifting, the shadows and bare glimpses of brightness all dramatic in fugue states of consciousness. The only constant is Yuuri. In his waking and sleeping. He runs his thumbs over the sweat that’s starting to gather in the V of Yuuri's hips. Licks his own bottom lip and wonders when Yuuri will lean forward and plaster them together, give him access to that mouth that can be so sharp and so soft at once.

After some time, Victor looks up and out from his own pleasure. Stills his gaze enough to notice what looks damn near like panic in Yuuri’s eyes.

This wakes him completely, instantly, and he stops Yuuri with a hard hand over the small of his back.

“Baby.” He hears Yuuri’s moan, and it is the first time that exact sound hasn’t sent him to higher planes of sensation. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Yuuri just breathes, but relaxes around him. It makes how tight he'd been a second ago all the more obvious. Victor takes the advantage, pull Yuuri off, pulls him upward and wraps his arms around him.

Yuuri buries his face against Victor’s neck. After a short hesitation, he says, “I had a dream that the Grand Prix was over and… You were gone. I think I told you to go. Or you didn’t see a reason to stay. Anyway I couldn’t find you and I was looking for you and. It was…” He breathes hard.

Victor holds him a little tighter. “That’s a nightmare, not a dream. Yuuri- I promise you, I’ve already promised you, that that’s not going to happen. I’m staying. Okay? You’re stuck with me, love.”

This seems to appease Yuuri, who is still sex-hazy enough to answer with a groan and insistent lips against his jaw. He gives a couple long breaths and then starts to move impatiently against him again.

“Can we still…?”

Victor nods. “Let me take care of you?”

Yuuri nods now and lets Victor turn him over onto his side, make his way slowly over his skin, over each perfectly-honed muscle, each place where his natural softness echoes the scared young man he first encountered here in Hasetsu. So different than the confident, sultry youth that had stolen his heart last December - but irrevocably the same. Victor craves each facet of his crystalline existence, each bend and twist of color. And he’ll spend the rest of his life showing Yuuri that that’s true.   
  
Touching as much of him as they can both stand, Victor grazes and tongues and kisses just a bit more, before he takes him in that slow, grinding rhythm Yuuri seemed to be craving. A few minutes ago Victor had thought he was almost too tired to come, but he’s proven wrong.

As they lay there afterwards, too tired to even clean up yet, he says, “We’re taking the morning off, okay?”

He’s carding his fingers through Yuuri’s hair as Yuuri sighs his agreement. As Yuuri takes one of Victor's hands and kisses the palm.

“Sorry, I got a little…”

Victor shakes his head, as if he’d been expecting the apology. “You need a lot of reassurance. As a skater and a lover. And that’s okay. Everyone’s different.”

Victor second-guesses, thinks that might have been the wrong thing to say when Yuuri’s barely-open eyes go a little wide and then glaze over. But he realizes that sometimes Yuuri’s vulnerability is just the right thing to aim for, in moments like this, when Yuuri holds him closer.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
